Seeing Eye to Eye
by i'll-be-a-knight
Summary: Ron and Hermione have some trouble dealing with the aftermath of their kiss.  With a bit of help, will they finally understand each other?


**DISCLAIMER**: The characters, places, and things that are part of the Harry Potter universe all belong to J.K. Rowling, though should she choose to give up ownership of Ron, then I would gladly take him. This particular story, however, is mine.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I haven't decided if this is a stand-alone story or if it takes place in the same timeline as my first fic, **Hermione Granger and the Fact-Finding Mission**. I think it works either way!

* * *

Harry didn't know how much more he could take. He had spent the better part of a year searching for fragments of a dark wizard's soul while staying under the Ministry's radar, he'd fought in a handful of battles, and he'd even defeated Voldemort just a few days ago, saving the Wizarding World from the tyranny of evil. But absolutely none of these events had tested his patience as much as the irksome behavior of his two best friends.

It was certainly no secret by now how Ron and Hermione felt about each other. It may have taken them a couple of years to be on the same page (for a while there, it seemed as if Ron wasn't even on the same book, figuratively speaking), but they were finally where they needed to be. Obstacles in the form of Viktor Krum and Lavender Brown were no longer a factor. They had even snogged in the middle of a heated battle, for Merlin's sake! Yet here they were days later, tiptoeing around each other as if surrounded by broken glass. Even right now, as they were having breakfast in the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione consciously chose to sit on opposite sides of him, yet they kept trying to steal glances at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking. The whole thing was gnawing on Harry's last nerve.

Something had to be done and it would seem that he must be the catalyst that will cause the reaction. Harry needed to insure that his best friends would be left alone. It would be a difficult feat when most everyone who had participated in the battle was also helping to rebuild what was left of Hogwarts, even choosing to temporarily live there while the bulk of the reconstruction was underway, for the sake of convenience. Perhaps he ought to just knock Ron and Hermione's heads together to force some sense into them...

Ron briefly gazed at Hermione as he sliced the eggs on his plate, not even realizing that he'd cut them so many times that his meal was now a runny mess. _What was she thinking?_ he wondered as he studied her profile. Was their kiss replaying over and over in her mind like it was in his? He even relived the moment in his dreams, with the welcome change of Harry's absence as well as the kiss taking place somewhere more private. Needless to say, he wanted to feel her lips on his again, to hold her in his arms, to find a bit of happiness in the midst of the destruction and death that surrounded them.

But how could he be sure that she wanted the same or that she still even wants it? He could hardly ask the question straight out. _Oh hey, Hermione...are we going to kiss again?_ He hoped that she would give him some sort of sign or indication. Hell, at the moment he'd even settle for catching her eye, but she was too busy with her breakfast. He looked down at his own plate and grimaced slightly at what he had unknowingly done to his food. Might as well choke it down, he thought as he scooped up a forkful of eggs. He didn't want the elves in the kitchen to think that he was ungrateful.

Hermione looked over at Ron and saw that he was immersed with his food, as usual. How could he just bloody sit there eating his breakfast after what had happened between them? Her whole world had changed and not just because of the war. At long last, she knew what it felt like to kiss someone she truly yearned for, a person who was a vital part of her life. It had been so satisfying, both physically and emotionally, when her needs were finally aligned with his.

However, it would seem to her that Ron's only need at that moment was to fill his stomach. She barely even touched her food, though her piece of bread had been ripped to bits by her restless fingers. She simply had to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Did he still want her? If only he'd look in her direction just once...

Harry stood up, having finished everything on his plate. It would be another long day of hard work, surveying the damage and renovating accordingly. "Ready?" he asked Ron and Hermione. They nodded and followed him out of the Great Hall. He went through the doorway first while both of them reached it at the same time.

"After you," Ron said politely.

"No, please, you go first," Hermione urged.

"No, really, I insist—"

"Just go ahead—"

Harry merely closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache brewing. He supposed he should be thankful that they were actually talking again, if one can even call their flustered stuttering a conversation. But the doorway was large enough to fit a small group of people walking together at the same time, so there was simply no need for this overly courteous exchange.

"Right," Harry said loudly as he grabbed each of them by the arm and pulled them through. "There, problem solved." Continuing to keep a grip on them, he headed towards one of the many staircases.

"Harry, where are we going?" Hermione asked. "I thought we're supposed to be out on the grounds today, we still haven't finished—"

"That's fine," he interrupted. "There's something else that needs to be done first. A project, if you will."

"A project?" Ron repeated, puzzled. "What kind of project?"

"You'll see."

Harry continued to steer them further upstairs. He'd studied the Marauder's Map enough to know what there are plenty of unoccupied rooms scattered throughout the school. He turned the corner and opened the first door he saw. It creaked loudly, an obvious sign of disuse._ Perfect_, he thought.

Ron clicked on the Deluminator and a couple of old lamps lit up, flickering feebly. "This is your project?" he asked Harry dubiously. Looking around the tiny, windowless room, he noted, "There's no sign of damage or anything."

"Trust me, there is plenty of work that needs to be done here." He saw that Hermione's wand was tucked in her jeans pocket while Ron had a loose hold on his. It would be too risky to disarm them both, especially when Hermione was much quicker and better with spells than he was. He would have to do it the old-fashioned Muggle way. Harry waited a few seconds, making sure that Ron and Hermione were completely distracted by trying to figure out what exactly needed work in this small space that seemed to be perfectly intact. Then he quickly made his move, grabbing both of their wands and scurrying out the door.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she rushed after him, but the door snapped shut in her face. "What are you doing? This isn't funny!" She heard the lock click from the other side.

"Harry, you git!" Ron yelled as he frantically rattled the doorknob. "Let us out!"

"This is for your own good!" Harry told them. "And mine as well, quite frankly! You're both staying in there until you sort everything out." He knew they wouldn't be able to escape, not without their wands, and he was certain that there were no hidden passages in that room. As an added precaution, he uttered, "Protego." With a shield charm in place around the door, Harry headed back towards the staircase, smirking as he descended the steps at a brisk pace. They may be mad at him now, but he had a feeling that after some time alone in there, they'll be thanking him instead.

As Ron tried to force the door open by kicking it and pounding it with his fists, Hermione ran her hands all over the walls in the hopes of finding a trigger or a hidden lock that would open up to a passage to freedom. "There's no use, Ron," she said dejectedly. "We're trapped. You may as well stop doing that before you hurt yourself." She sat down on a small couch that looked as if it hadn't been used in centuries, wrinkling her nose as a cloud of dust billowed up when she made contact with the ancient piece of furniture.

"When we get out of here, I'm going to murder him," Ron vowed as he leaned against the wall.

"Not if I get to him first."

They passed the time by coming up with various plans for Harry's demise, but this only lasted a few short minutes, knowing full well that they were only stalling since neither one wanted to address the elephant in the room. _It was now or never_, Ron thought as the silence grew more uncomfortable and awkward. Their whole purpose of being stuck there was to sort everything out, as Harry put it. It was time to clear the air and get some answers.

"Have you changed your mind about me, then?" he asked Hermione.

She frowned, confused by the inquiry. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you regret kissing me?" As much as he repeatedly thought about what had happened between them, the idea that she might be having second thoughts lurked in the back of his mind and had grown into a legitimate concern.

Hermione's first impulse was to scoff at what she considered an absurd question, but she saw how utterly serious his expression was and immediately knew that this wasn't something to take lightly. Her next thought was to reassure him that she hadn't changed her mind and although it was quite true, placating him would only make him feel better and won't address the reason why he had such a thought in his head in the first place. No, she had to get to the root of the problem; after all, she and Ron were to clear the air while they were imprisoned and this would be the perfect way to get the answers she needed.

"Why would you think that?" she asked him.

"Why wouldn't I?" he retorted defensively. "You've wanted nothing to do with me ever since. I don't know what's going through your mind, Hermione. Even as you were kissing me I was wondering why you were doing it."

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked incredulously as she leapt off the couch and stomped over to where he was standing. "Why else would I do it, you—you—" She groaned in frustration when she couldn't come up with the proper insult. "There aren't enough words to describe how bloody thick you are, Ronald Weasley!"

"What's obvious to me is that when you kissed me, we were in the middle of a battle. I know we both had faith in Harry, that he'd be the one to win in the end and destroy You-Know-Who. But I also couldn't help but think that I might die, or that you might die, too. Maybe you were thinking the same thing and that's why you did it."

Hermione was surprised that steam wasn't coming out of her ears the way her anger was starting to boil over. "If you're insinuating that I was _desperate_ or—"

"What I'm trying to say is that you were seizing the moment," Ron cut in. "I don't blame you for it, Hermione. The world was practically coming to an end; no one knew what would happen next. But we're alive, we're still here. And I'm still the same idiot that you've known for the last seven years. I know I'm not good enough for you, so if you truly have changed your mind, then can you just say it straight out?" _That way I can stop wishing for what I can't have_, he added silently.

Hermione found it impossible to hold on to her anger when he looked so miserable and was in such need of reassurance. Just when she thought that he'd used up her supply of patience, there always seemed to be just a little bit left. "One of these days, you're going to have to open your eyes and really take a good look at yourself," she said solemnly. "You're not standing behind anyone's shadow anymore, Ron. Yes, you're exactly the same idiot I've known since we were children." She smiled to let him know that it was said in jest. "But in many ways, you're so wonderfully different than how you were back then. Someday, I hope you'll realize that."

"Hermione..." He simply had no words. He could hardly believe what she was telling him. She was looking at him as if...as if she loved him. Did he dare to hope that it was true?

"I don't regret kissing you. I've wanted that for a long time. It doesn't matter to me when or how it took place. I certainly didn't do it because that might've been the only moment we had left; I kissed you because it felt right. But don't you see? It's always about what _I_ want, always _my_ feelings on the line. I wanted you to ask me to the Yule Ball. I was the one to invite you to Slughorn's party, hoping you'd figure out that I didn't want to go just as friends. During the battle, I had practically thrown myself at you! I'm not ashamed of any of it," she said fiercely. "I don't mind taking the initiative. But a relationship, or whatever it is that we have, takes two people, Ron." Wearily, she ran a hand through her hair. "That's why I haven't brought up our kiss again. It can't all just come from me. You have to meet me halfway."

"You're right. You're absolutely right," Ron admitted. Why hadn't he figured that out? Much like he required some kind of signal from her, she needed it from him as well. "I'm just—I'm not good at this, Hermione. I don't want to make a mistake. I've made too many as far as you're concerned."

"I won't disagree with that. But I'm not perfect, either."

"You're pretty bloody close."

Hermione laughed. "Not as close as you think. All right, I'll help you out. Answer this question for me. What do you want?"

"You."

It was only one word, but the intensity in his eyes when he said it left her breathless. She felt the tears beginning to form; she'd been longing to hear such an admission from him.

"It's always been you," Ron told her. "But right now, I want nothing more than to kiss you again." There was nothing stopping him; no wars, no best mate hanging around, not even his own insecurities would get in the way. It was just him and Hermione, and this moment would be theirs alone. He wanted to savor it, to absorb everything and preserve it in his memory forever.

She felt herself shuddering slightly as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and stroked the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers, as if he was memorizing her features by touch. No one had ever made her feel more desirable. "I'm not fragile," she said shakily.

Ron smiled. "I know. Believe me, I know. But that doesn't mean that I can't be careful with you." Her hair, though a bit wild and unruly, was easily tamed by his fingers. Her skin was so soft and smooth; how had he gone this long without knowing its texture?

Hermione had no idea if he was purposely seducing her or if it was merely happening by accident, but she couldn't decide if she wanted him to continue or to hurry up and kiss her already; the anticipation was nearly unbearable. But it would seem that she must endure the pleasurable torture for a bit longer, since he was now gently tracing the curve of her neck. She saw his expression change as he lightly traced the scar left by Bellatrix's knife. "I heard you," she whispered. "You were screaming for me while you and Harry were locked in the cellar."

"That was about all I could do," Ron said with a hint of disgust. "I'd never felt more helpless in my life."

"I was barely conscious, but I could hear you. It was your voice that kept me from slipping away."

"Hermione, I—" He felt as if he was choking on his own words.

"It's okay. Don't say it if you're not ready." It was more than enough to know that he felt it. As much as she'd welcome a declaration of love, she wasn't sure if she herself was prepared to return the words, even though she felt the same way he did. It was a very big step. "You said you wanted to kiss me. We'll settle with that." For now, at least.

Ron placed his hand behind her neck. "There's no turning back after this."

"I don't want to. We'll move forward together."

Now wasn't the time to worry about how this will affect their friendship or how to act around Harry when all three of them are together, not when he and Hermione were finally seeing eye-to-eye. Ron brushed her lips with his own, feeling her tremble against him. He grazed her mouth again, almost teasingly, much like a diver testing the waters. Then he plunged.

Hermione found herself pressed against the door; by placing his hands on the door on either side of her, he had effectively pinned her in place without touching her. _Yes_, she thought triumphantly. This was what she wanted. The warmth was wonderful, but it was fire she craved, especially after years of waiting. They may have shared their first kiss just days ago, but this moment may as well be another first; it was the first time they fully understood each other.

Ron dimly wondered how he could maneuver her over to the couch. Sure, it was dusty and a bit on the small side, but it would be more comfortable for the both of them. But he couldn't bring himself to stop kissing her long enough to suggest it and the way she was running her hands all over him successfully ceased his ability to think.

Hermione forced her lips away from his. "Ron, maybe we should...the couch..." She felt her knees start to buckle as he focused his attention on kissing her neck instead.

Suddenly they heard a voice on the other side of the door. "Finite. Alohomora."

"It's Harry!" Hermione hissed. They jumped apart a split second before the door opened.

Harry studied his two best friends. Taking into account Hermione's flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance, as well as the fact that a couple of Ron's shirt buttons seem to be undone, he concluded that he had interrupted at the wrong time. "So, how's the project going?" he managed to ask with a straight face. Ron's inventive cursing told him all he needed to know. Harry wisely disguised his laughter by coughing. "There's a lot of dust in here."

Hermione glared at him. "I'll take those." She snatched her wand and Ron's from him.

"You're right, there's plenty of work to be done." This time it was Ron who shut the door in Harry's face while Hermione locked it from the inside.

Hermione smiled as she put her arms around Ron's neck. "Now, where were we?"


End file.
